the price you pay for loss of control
by heretowinbitch
Summary: msnikkymoneypenny said: Rio acting clearly shaken and feeling raw that Beth has seen where he stays this didn't exactly turn out the way i intended but the thought was "what if rio had cameras on his place" and then just became a scene retelling - first attempt from rio's POV so be gentle


he's not sure how long she's been at it, when he first notices her following him. she's trying to be sneaky, but that mama van stands out like a beacon, easily drawing his eye ( that sorta thing happens with recognizable vehicles, doesn't necessarily mean anything ). he doesn't have marcus yet, and it would take little time and effort to just confront her, demand to know why she's following him, and hash it out then and there.

except he's curious - in that way he always is when it comes to elizabeth - and so he figures he'll let it play out, figure out her game, then, do what he does best and beat her at it.

its a risk, he knows that, leading her to these puzzle pieces that make up his life and allowing her to try to fit them into a whole - when he's spent a lot of time and effort preventing just that. he's too proud to admit that she hurt him, too stubborn to let himself wallow in it for any amount of time, and she certainly hasn't earned the right to see the big picture after all that.

part of him still wants to show her.

part of him wants to let her uncover it on her own.

shes sloppy, putting herself right in his line of sight when he goes to drive marcus to t-ball, but it don't matter when he's already seen her. while his boy had been getting ready, he'd been making sure the cameras were all working and turned on in the building. he doesn't often need them, but this is where his kid sleeps, and he takes every precaution to keep him safe.

the plan is to do the drop off, circle back around, and confront her when he gets back to the apartment. but he's pulling into the parking spot when the motion sensor alert goes off on his phone - notifying of something being picked up on one of the cameras - and while he already knows it's her, had already been planning to go in there right quick and deal with her intrusion, something makes him check the notification anyway.

the video begins to stream on his phone, and at first, he's not sure what in the hell she's doing, but she starts stripping down to nothing but a bra and panties and he can't tear his eyes away. it ain't like he hasn't seen, touched, and tasted every one of those curves, but this is something else. this is something she thinks she's doing out of sight, and if he hadn't spent so much time watching her already, sitting outside her house, hanging in the back of parks where her kids were doing whatever sport was on the agenda, he might feel guilty for peeking in on this presumed to be private moment.

what he feels ain't guilt, though, as he gets a good look before she's heading down the hall.

he can only imagine the story she's spinning when she gets to maria's place - the girlfriend answers - and he wishes he'd gone for the cameras with audio. he can almost see the blush rising to elizabeth's cheeks, visualize it even though her back is to the hall camera now. she's something else when she's playing a role, and he can guess the one she's going for now, and it ain't like it's such a stretch of the imagination. he's gotta refocus his thoughts from that, though, his body threatening to react to the memory, the way he wants her still ( despite his anger ) - and wishes he didn't.

shes dressed again by the time she heads for the fire escape, and he still finds himself stuck in his seat, watching as she climbs in the window and takes in the scene. he'd wanted to be there for this part - up close - to see every one of her assumptions about him melt away. she might have wanted them to be partners, but that don't mean she'd been willing to shed that skin, that layer of self-righteousness that tells her she's _better_, deserves _better_, that she's a good person because she never had to get violent to prove a point. she ain't a good person, and that's one of the reasons he can't shake her. beth boland had been a stuck up PTA mom who needed something more to fulfill her boredom. his elizabeth, though, she has the makings of a queen, she just needs to see it.

she doesn't waste too much time in awe before she's searching for something, and he can feel the annoyance prickle at the back of his neck.

it's the closet that gets him, though. she spends a lot of time in there for someone who doesn't search a damn thing in it, but his chest tightens as she runs her hands over his shirts. she ran those same hands over his skin once, tentative and slow as though she'd wanted to soak up the feel of him and savor it for later.

he hadn't realized just how true that was at the time. and he'd paid for it.

she leaves the closet, and he's done waiting.

getting out of the car he heads up to the third floor, opening the door as quietly as possible. she's too busy rustling through his nightstand to notice him. so he watches for a minute.

_she looks good there_ -

it's an involuntary thought, and one he'd like to destroy, but now that it's out there it complicates things.

he only allows himself another moment to imagine her tangled in his sheets, to let the image of him walking up to her and throwing her on his bed and taking out his frustration on her - his frustrations in the way he can't shake her - in the way he really wants to.

he squeezes his eyes shut, instead, and leans a little harder against the beam.

"you find what you're lookin' for?"

he's a little pleased by the way she startles. _good_, he thinks, _show me what excuses you got now that you been caught_.

she don't hesitate with her _no_, and he can't help the smirk as she straightens her jacket, squares her shoulders, and goes on the defensive in that way she always does. he hates the way he_ loves_ watching her like this - indignant and ready to fight, but keeping it under wraps in a way she thinks seems calm ( he sees through it, has always seen through it, but he enjoys watching it all the same ).

"you wanna tell me what it is?" it's conversational, casual, as if the next words out of his mouth might be _i__ can help you look_. he's not gonna help her look. he's pissed, despite allowing her in this far, letting her have a peek into his life for a moment. he tells himself it was just to see her swallow all of the things she'd thought of him, crush those assumptions under her shock.

it ain't that simple, but he's not gonna worry about that right now.

when she says _no_ again, it's firmer than the last one, like she's putting her foot down, and he wants to laugh - he almost does - but bites it back as he begins his approach, rolling his shoulders as though it might relieve the tension that's been living there since this woman came into his life.

"alright. let's play a game, yeah? twenty questions - i'll start." he's stepping closer slowly as he speaks, wanting to close the distance between them because she's oh so pliable when he's in her space, like she can't think straight. problem is, that feeling is sometimes mutual, and he needs his own head straight now more than ever.

"why you follow me around all day?" she don't even pretend like she's gonna answer, firing back with her own question.

"was that you're ex-wife?" a part of him wants to laugh. of course that'd be her assumption, right? little suburban mama can't imagine it being anything else but a marriage gone wrong. he's not gonna give her the satisfaction. "eighteen." he's still moving closer, and to her credit, he's almost surprised by the next words outta her mouth. "that's not an answer, christopher." he doesn't try to hide the smile, then, she _is_ resourceful when she puts her mind to it - hadn't that been the reason he'd agreed to the partnership in the first place? agreed despite the risk and the consequences he'd known might arise from that. but he'd _wanted_ her, not just for her resourcefulness.

and she'd thrown it in his damn face anyway.

"why you here?" he tries instead, and whatever the reason she's really in his apartment, she _really_ doesn't want him to know. she tosses his countdown back in his face, and two can play at that game. "ah, that's not an answer elizabeth." and she about to come out swinging, he can see it - the way the frustration begins to twist her features. a lotta nerve for someone who climbed in his window looking for who-knows-what.

she goes hard, slinging questions at him about that damn body, and he can't help but smile at her as he silently counts them down. they're getting to it now, the real meat of this thing, and it might be spite, or anger, but he's still got her on the hook as a result - he ain't apologizing for it.

he's close enough to touch her, but keeps his hands in his pockets. "it'll take a lifetime to wash all that money," she tells him, and he knows that, of course. the smile on his face only half cruel, half something else. "yeah, that's kinda the point." because it is. it's not just about her girls screwing him over with their little drug disposal. it's not just about her dismissal of him in her bedroom. it's another something else he's not focusing on right now. this is what she asked for, and he's delivering. ain't his fault she decided she didn't want it somewhere in the meantime ( it's a lie, anyway, he can see the want in her eyes ).

"why are you doing this?" he almost wants to give her the truth, so he gives her a part of it. one real answer to a question - he never said it was twenty answers, after all. "i mean, _you_ came to _me_ way back when, right? asking to be a part of it - now you a part of it." he's so close now that they're toe to toe, all it would take is the slightest lean in and her chest would be pressed against his. he can smell her shampoo, can see the part of her lips, can feel her warmth. the bed is inches away, and for a moment - once again - he really does think about grabbing her and throwing her on it. they speak better without words, anyhow, or at least he'd thought.

but when she speaks again, her voice is so small, those big doe eyes looking up at him and begging for answers, it throws him off his game for a beat. "when does it end?" she looks tired, as though this thing between them has been exhausting her. he don't blame her, it's been exhausting him, too. but he thinks maybe it'll _never_ end, and it's not an answer he wants to give - not when he'd already told it to her in different words.

so he reaches out and touches her, instead, watching the way her eyelids flutter before her gaze lands on his mouth - and _somehow_ he suppresses the smile that wants to curl his lips at that. she's not so unaffected as she wants to pretend, and it's one step in the right direction, but not enough to make a difference, not today. "one question left," he breathes the words at her, hand dropping to his side before he shoves it back into his pocket so as to avoid the temptation of pulling her close. "you want it?" she doesn't speak, but her eyes are still asking so many questions and he almost feels bad that they're never gonna be answered - _almost_.

when he steps closer now - that one more step needed for their body heat to mingle in a space nearly diminished entirely - it's calculated. he knows the moment he's got her, the way she presses up onto the balls of her feet, her lips parting, eyes closed. and for his own part, he can't stop the way his own gaze focuses on those lips, remembering. he's got her, but she's got him all the same, and this dance they keep doing is gonna end up in disaster if one of them can't keep their cool.

he'll do it - he can be the one who's strong for both of them.

she has more lessons to learn, but this one is personal, and while he can feel her holding her breath, his is exhaled between them like he's letting go of a long kept secret.

"would you please leave my house, now?"

she's shocked when her eyes open, but he keeps a carefully neutral expression on his own face, watching her intently. she's got no right to refuse, and he knows she won't, knows the realization is dawning on her in that very moment.

he thinks maybe she's a little wobbly when she slips around him to leave, and he watches her until she's gone out the door.

when it closes behind her, he lets his legs give out - maybe _he's_ a little wobbly, too - and sinks onto the corner of the bed.

he'd known she'd do something stupid like this, but there's something different about knowing it and watching it unfold - watching her in his space, seeing her standing beside his bed, wanting so badly to show her what it'd be like if she could just let go for a minute.

his hands are shaking as he runs them over his face, and the scent of her still lingers as though she'd imprinted herself permanently into his clothes.

it's probably in his head when he gets out of the shower later, and catches her scent in his closet.

he knows he's fucked when he imagines what it would be like to have it there always.


End file.
